


Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat

by divingforstones



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Community: lewis_challenge, First Kiss, M/M, Post S7, Seduced Through Latin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divingforstones/pseuds/divingforstones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Robbie had been a little afraid that the lad might wake up in a panic, finding himself in bed with his boss. In a compromising position, and the morning after the night before.</p><p>What he hadn’t expected was this endearing, drowsy, grumpy, first-thing-in-the-morning James."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat

**Author's Note:**

> With lots of thanks to wendymr for the great tutorial in commas (any remaining errors are very much mine). And for picking up on a gap or two in the narrative ;)

 

 

**Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat**

 

The harsh tone of his alarm clock cuts rudely into Robbie’s thoughts. A long arm emerges from the huddle of bedclothes and reaches across him, groping blindly on his bedside table. The alarm stops. The arm drops heavily down across Robbie’s chest.

James, lying on his front, half on top of him, buries himself in a bit closer. His breathing starts to even out again. Robbie can feel his chest rising and falling against his own, the rhythm of it. He can hear the soft sounds in his ear.  He lies as still as possible.  And he waits.

The alarm sounds loudly again.

 _“Stop_ that,” James commands it, reaching again, still keeping his head buried. Robbie watches his fingers find the button. Silence restored. James gives a satisfied grunt, and this time when he drops that long arm back down across Robbie’s chest he tucks it right around, tucks his hand almost under Robbie, so that Robbie is held firmly, James’s shield against the encroaching day.

Robbie feels blissfully comfortable, has been lying here for the last hour, actually, feeling exactly that. Fretting a little, if truth be told, about how his sergeant will feel when he wakes up. But also looking at James sleeping, in the dim light of his bedroom. Savouring the warm sleeping presence against him. So comfortable that it’s almost a shame that—

The alarm sounds again. 

“Oh, for—” The hand untucks itself and performs the same routine. James buries himself back in all the harder, but he’s waking up properly now, Robbie can feel it. Well, it really is a shame. Those lovely, long, drowsy, loose limbs starting to take on a little of the tension of the day. Although they don’t seem that tense.

Robbie had been a little afraid that the lad might wake up in a panic, finding himself in bed with his boss. In a compromising position, and the morning after the night before.  What he hadn’t expected was this endearing, drowsy, grumpy, first-thing-in-the-morning James, whose sole purpose seems to be to pit himself against the clock, against time itself, to secure himself those few more moments.

Speaking of which…Robbie begins a silent countdown in his head.

“For fuck’s _sake_ , sir.” James rears up indignantly as the clock sounds once more. He stares down at Robbie, who has helplessly given in to his amusement at last. Then he picks up the blaring instrument of torture, and glares at it, blearily.

“If looks could only kill, lad,” manages Robbie. But James has finally located the off button. It’s right beside the snooze button. He places the clock back down on the bedside table with a level of exaggerated care that tells Robbie his real impulse is to fling it across the room.

Then he heaves a huge sigh, and lies back down, right on top of Robbie. One arm taking up residence right across Robbie’s chest, once more. His head on Robbie’s shoulder, turned a little into his neck. He squirms down a little more and then moves his thigh slowly over, to cover Robbie’s. _Christ._ It’s a bloody shame that—

“We do actually have to get up for work,” Robbie suggests mildly.

“No, we don’t,” comes the muffled mumble against Robbie’s shoulder. “‘S‘Valentine’s Day now.”

“Think we still have to go to work, James.” He says it regretfully. “Not a public holiday, you know.” But he brings his hand up to rest on the base of James’s neck, all the same. Rubs his thumb slowly back and forth on the warm skin.

“Nobody has to work on Valentine’s Day…” The sleepy voice in Robbie’s ear trails off.  Damned if he isn’t actually drowsing off again. Robbie moves his own shoulder to and fro a bit. Well, as much as he can manage, with the weight of that warm, heavy head.

“Oi,” says James indignantly, pressing said head in further, to still the shoulder. “Should’ve both left, when we had the chance,” he mutters. “Why didn’t you retire, after all? I wouldn’t have rescinded my resignation, if you hadn’t gone and done that. ‘S’all your fault, sir.”

He has a point. Robbie hadn’t actually anticipated this morning, though, when making that decision. “We’re going to be late now, sergeant.” Maybe he should just pull rank.

“No, we’re not,” says his sergeant, lips moving right against Robbie’s skin, but his tone patiently exasperated. “I _told_ you. We don’t have to go in. Valentine’s. Interdepartmental memo about it. Last week.”

Robbie chuckles. “Must’ve missed that one.”

“You miss all of them, you let me screen them.”

He does. It’s their new policy after Robbie had been overheard by Innocent reading one of her particularly pointless memos aloud. With his own added commentary about its pointlessness. James just directs him to a select few now, on a need-to-know basis. He deals with the rest of the irritating bombardment into Robbie’s inbox himself. He probably does a lot more for Robbie’s blood pressure than any medication could. He deserves a day off, come to think of it.   

“Are you actually suggesting that we both phone in sick, Sergeant Hathaway?” James goes very still against him. This is a lot more than he’d dared to wish for, Robbie can tell.

“Yeah?” breathes a very hopeful voice, in Robbie’s ear.

He should’ve known that he’d be led astray. Day one of this new version of their relationship, day _one_ and he’s already…But the utter relief, that James is so very all right with this, still. The thought of making him happy, of putting that disbelieving grin on his face, the one Robbie had first seen very close up, late last night, when they’d finally pulled apart…He can’t quite help himself. Robbie reaches for his phone.

“Now, you,” he instructs, a moment later, feeling grateful for the complete disinterest of the desk sergeant.

“Can’t yet. Would look too suspicious if I don’t wait a bit.” James has, incredibly, buried himself in yet further. But Robbie had known from the back of his head that he was listening, hard, during the brief call. And his arm had tightened around Robbie, conveying what he felt about this.

“D’you breathe through a hole in your back, like a whale, lad?” But he can feel the warm breaths against his neck.  A fresh thought strikes him, belatedly. “Christ, you don’t think it looks suspicious anyway? Both of us, on Valentine’s Day?”

It had finally hit Robbie, fairly recently, he has to admit, but with a force that had left him breathless, that this was a possibility for them. That James, incredibly, seemed to actually want this. It had then seemed so bloody inevitable, such a natural next step, that he now wonders if everyone who knows them had seen this before he did.

“Hardly the office Casanovas, either of us,” says James lazily, “they won’t make the connection.”

“I dunno about that, lad, you had a few moves.” Robbie can almost feel those features twisting into a smirk against his neck now.

******

Robbie had been unable to bring himself to take the final step. Not for any lack of wanting.  Christ, once the idea of having James that way for his actual own had first really hit him, he’d been unable to stop thinking about it. But the lad is younger, Robbie is still his boss.  He’d felt it had to come from James. He’d just rather wished, highly unreasonably, that the other man would get a bloody move on. And it wasn’t until last night that he’d realised what the final obstacle was.   

They’d been sitting on Robbie’s couch, drinking beer, pretty much ignoring the television. Both a bit too relaxed to even focus on the screen. Two heads tilted back against the top of the couch. It could have been one of many, many nights prior to this. Except that James had then asked whether Robbie was seeing Laura for Valentine’s Day. And the ironic delivery of the last two words had clued Robbie in that he was onto something here. The question had puzzled him, though.

“No,” he’d said slowly. It had ended months ago. James knew that. He’d been sympathetic, and kindly solicitous, at the time. Although Robbie hadn’t really needed sympathy that much. He’d held onto Laura as a friend, which had been one of his overriding concerns. She seemed genuinely happy with this Franco bloke now, which was another. And the bloke seemed decent, which was the final one. “You know that’s over,” he’d said, frowning straight at James, whose eyes were suddenly very blue.   

“Thought you might still…be planning to start up again…at some point...”  James had said. A little breathlessly.  And then Robbie had finally understood. James had watched the confusing back and forth of his relationship with Laura over too many years now. He’d simply been waiting for the next twist. He didn’t understand that, this time, over meant over.

“No.” Robbie had said, firmly. “Over.” The blue eyes had widened further. And Robbie had just looked at the lad. James had stared right back. Robbie had forced himself not to look away, not to dilute the moment with any movement whatsoever. _Come on,_ he’d thought. Risk _it, James._

James had reached one shaky hand out towards his beer bottle, without taking his eyes off Robbie. Then he’d put the bottle back down, without taking a sip. He didn’t seem to know quite what to do with himself. Still looking at Robbie. Robbie had watched the conflicting emotions fighting across his face, as James did battle with himself. Then, before fear could defeat hope, Robbie had leaned in towards him, just a bit, and murmured, “Fortes fortuna adiuvat, lad.”

James had given him a look of complete and utter disbelief. And then reached for him.

 _James…_ Robbie had thought, in astonishment, as he began to yield to the kiss, to the sensation of the lips pressing against his, and the feel of the warm hand that had come up to cup his cheek. _James…_ he had thought again, with more urgency, as the hand slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. _James_ …he had thought in disbelief as James finally dropped his head on Robbie’s chest, shaking slightly against him. He wasn’t aware of saying the last one aloud, until James had lifted his head and given him that incredible, utterly joyous, grin.

It wasn’t until a while later, quite a while later, as they were finally drifting off to sleep, that there had come a murmur, near Robbie’s ear.  Robbie sincerely hoped that it wasn’t another suggestion as to what they could do. He could only take so much in one night. Kissing. He had set a firm limit for their first night. Just kissing. Then, once they had decided to take the enterprise into Robbie’s bedroom—and Robbie’s bed—James had proceeded to demonstrate, both by words and by deeds, just how very many parts of Robbie’s anatomy would respond well to kissing. Dear God.

“What was that, James?”

“Where’d that come from, earlier?” had come the mumble, again.

Robbie had known what he’d meant. “Fortune favours the brave? Me old school motto.  Who’d’ve ever guessed it’d come in quite so useful?”

There was the soft breath of a laugh, the last sound from James before he had drifted off. It had been the last thing Robbie remembered before he, too, had fallen into one of the best sleeps he could remember in a while. That had been it, until he had woken in the dim grey light and just watched James for that while. Feeling fiercely protective, fiercely thankful and that bit worried. And finally, just giving in, and savouring that pure comfort. Then had come the alarm clock.

******

“Never would have thought you liked your bed so much in the morning,” he says now.

“Not the bed,” explains James, to his neck, “it’s you.” Oh. Fair enough, James is lying more on him than the bed, at this point.  
   
“Are we staying here all day, then? ‘Cause you can take me with you to the kitchen, you know.” There’s a silence, while James obviously gives this some consideration. Then he finally rolls onto his back, beside Robbie.

“I could make you breakfast?” He sounds shyly delighted, at the thought of it. How can the lad feel shy about breakfast when, last night, the things he did without the slightest indication of shyness…It’s the ordinary domesticity of it that is delighting James, he realises, just in time. He’ll remember that.

“That would be great,” he says gently.  Then he nods towards James’s own phone. “You’re late calling in now, you know.”

“Makes it more convincing that I’ve got your flu,” James assures him. And then he proceeds to give a far more effortlessly convincing performance than Robbie’s to the desk sergeant. Robbie watches him, startled. He must be mad, thinking he’ll be able to keep up with his formidably bright, quicksilver sergeant, at his bloody age. Then he remembers the look on James’s face as he contemplated making them breakfast. Just making them breakfast. There might be enough in the forming and sharing of the gentle everyday routines to help keep the lad happy, after all.

“You know we can’t leave the house today,” is all he says.

“No?” James frowns at him slightly, some plan he’s already forming apparently thwarted.

“No,” says Robbie firmly. “No pub lunch. No pint out later. No restaurants. Not tonight. Plenty of time for all that later, now. But if we go out tonight, knowing my luck and Herself’s incredible stealth skills, she and the elusive Mr Innocent will be sharing a romantic meal for two at the next bloody table.” James grimaces to acknowledge the truth of this. But he’s not giving in.

“Sorry, sir,” he says, sounding genuinely regretful, “we still have to go out. In broad daylight, actually. No help for it. Have to just take our chances, and trust your luck has turned.”

“Why?”  What the hell is he up to now?

But James has finally flung back the covers, and is giving over his whole long, loose body to a stretch. Robbie looks at him, helplessly. He isn’t naked. He’s clad in boxers still. It’s just - all that taut pale skin, burnished now with the sun that has crept into the bedroom, across the bed. Those muscled rower’s thighs Robbie had become so supremely aware of last night. Never mind those firm arms he’s been trying to ignore the lure of all morning, since one of them first dropped across his chest. And, he knows, he has no hope of refusing whatever James is about to come up with.

“We have to buy you a Valentine’s Day present.”  James sits up and swings his legs off the bed. He casts one last, baleful, look over his shoulder, across the bed, to Robbie’s bedside table and the offending article on it. “New alarm clock. Never bloody waking up to the sound of _that_ thing again. Heinous incandescent _racket.”_  Then he pads across to pull open the curtains, and on around the bed, to where Robbie is again trying to keep a straight face.

“Rudeness of the awakening only matched by the sheer joy of the company, sir,” he says cheerfully, holding out a hand.

Robbie takes it. But in the last few moments he’s revised his opinion about the need to get up. Completely reversed it, in fact.

James, he sees, knows exactly what he wants. He has no thought of changing his mind in the sober reality of this morning. He has obviously known for quite some time. And if you are lucky enough, blessed enough, to be the person wanted by James Hathaway...If what he truly wants is Robbie, well, why on earth would Robbie be mad enough to refuse him for another instant?

All that joy, all that warmth. All just waiting for Robbie to claim some of it for himself.

So he just pulls his lanky blond distraction right back down on top of him again.

“Deep and abiding love, that’s what I’ve got for your shoulders, sir,” comes one more mumble in Robbie’s neck, before James raises himself up on an elbow, and looks into Robbie’s face. And there it is. That blessed joyous grin again, right there now, still there, in the warm light of day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat was indeed Robbie’s school motto, as the young Sergeant Lewis tells Morse in “Deceived By Flight."


End file.
